One Last Summer
by music-writing-life
Summary: As the summer after Dumbledore's death wears on, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally reunite at the Burrow. Between a wedding, Death Eater attacks, new romances, and getting ready for the war ahead, it's going to be one long summer. RWHG, HPGW PLEASE R
1. Hermione's Dilema

**Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure that if you find Harry Potter stories on a fanfiction website, it's not JK Rowling- therefore no one writing on this website owns it, including myself. It's a shame actually- if I could switch with JK Rowling I'd do it in a second. She's blonde, she's British, she's a fantastic writer, and she's richer than the Queen. Compared with me, who is a middle class Canadian brunette teenager with a not-quite-as-good writing ability, it wouldn't be a bad trade.**

**_July 27th, 1997_**

_I don't know what I'm feeling these days._

_I don't feel sad, even though I should be- Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards I'll ever know, and obviously Harry's devastated._

_I don't feel scared, even though Voldemort managed to have one of his followers kill the only man who's ever come close to stopping him, besides Harry._

_I don't even feel confused about why I'm feeling distanced from Ron and Harry, who are probably the best friends I'll ever have._

_I don't feel. All I have is this dull numbness. I don't cry. I don't laugh. I don't leave my room except for dinner._

_I recognize the feeling- after my grandfather died when I was ten I holed myself up in my room for days, devouring every book I could find in an attempt to put off having to deal with the loss._

_I'm doing the same thing now, except I don't know what I'm having problems dealing with. Maybe everything that's happened to Ron, Harry and I in the past four years is finally sinking in. Wormtail getting away from us, the Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort's return, the DA, Sirius dying, learning that Harry has to kill or be killed, and finally Snape showing his true colors when he blatantly murdered Dumbledore a month ago- I've been holding all my frustration over these events inside since third year, and I guess I just can't take it anymore._

My cat, Crookshanks, jumps onto my lap and I look up from my journal, slightly startled from the sudden weight. I glance at the digital clock on my night table- 4:45 PM. My parents should be home by seven tonight. They are usually home by 5:30, but dad has a nasty root canal to fix and mom has to replace a filling. What a fabulous job; not.

I'm sitting on my bed at home for the fortieth night this summer. I'm keeping count. Counting down the days before I can finally go back to the wizarding world is just another thing to do that kept my mind off of the things that I don't want to think about.

I look around my room again. I used to love it. The cream colored walls, the white canopy bed, the wardrobe, the desk, my bookshelves- it all used to scream "Hermione's room". These days I'm not so sure. The last time it was remodeled I was eleven, right before I got my letter from Hogwarts. God knows I'd changed a lot since then.

Some of my maturing has been because of Harry and Ron, and some of it is just plain getting older and growing up. Now, as I stare around the place that used to be my haven, I can't help thinking that a little bit of color would be nice. Actually, a lot of color would be nice. I should remodel it.

I turn my attention back to my journal. I've been writing down my thoughts since forth year- I was so worried that something was going to happen to Harry in that tournament that if I hadn't started unloading it all into my notebook I probably would have lost it on the first poor unfortunate soul to tick me off.

It's not a diary. A diary is the pink fluffy thing Lavender Brown has where she writes about her latest crush or the newest beauty spell she found in Witch Weekly. No, my book is more serious than that. I actually write my emotions, my worries, and my life story in it. Since forth year was really stressful, I'd run out of room in the original book by Christmas, when I'd written about ten pages about how much I seriously couldn't stand Ron and five pages listing every reason I didn't like being his friend anymore and never wanted to see him again.

It's funny how things change.

Anyways, by now I have six and a half notebooks filled. Some of it is stories and a couple of songs I wrote, but most of it is my own words about my life- uncensored and as honest as it gets.

Nobody knows about the journal. At Hogwarts I enchanted it to look like an extra copy of "Hogwarts: A History". No matter how many times I tell them to read it, I know that Harry, Ron, and my dorm mates will never pick up that book. They avoid it like it's the plague.

Speaking of Ron and Harry….

I open my desk drawer and glance at the pile of letters lying at the bottom of it. I've been avoiding opening them. I scoop them all up and drop them on the bed next to me.

I have to take a deep breath to try to escape the sinking feeling in my stomach. I sort the letters according to who sent them. In the past month I've gotten four letters from Harry, one each week; one from Hagrid; one each from Lavender and Parvati (probably trying to find out if I'm dating Ron); two from Ginny; and six-count them, SIX- letters from Ron. In one month during the summer I'll get two from him if I'm lucky. One is usually five sentences long about Quidditch or something else trivial, and the other is an invitation to visit his family at the Burrow.

Never in the history of anything has Ron written more letters to me than Harry. That's part of the reason I haven't opened his. The other ones I haven't opened because I'm trying to forget all the pain from the past year. It's not that I don't want to keep in touch with them, because I do-with the exception of Lavender because she just plain doesn't like me. It's just that I'm not ready to read them yet... however, it couldn't hurt to read Harry's letters. It's just Harry, that's all.

I look for the earliest dated letter and finding one dated June 28th, open it and start to read.

**Author's Note: This chapter is Hermione's point of view, but the next will be Harry's, then Ron's, then it starts over again (I might do a few of Ginny as well). I figured it would be interesting to see their last summer of childhood from all of their standpoints. It is, after all, possibly the last one they all share together. This is my second fan fiction and the first one with chapters. Anyways, I know you read this, so REVIEW! I honestly love hearing what you liked and didn't like about what I'm writing- as long as it's not hateful, I live to read criticism because it gives me a chance to improve. So pleeeeease press the little grey-ish purple-ish button? Pleeeease??? (As much as I try to maintain my dignity, I'm reduced to begging in this capacity.)**


	2. Harry Wizarding World, Here We Come!

**Once again- not JK Rowling. I own nothing, except the plot you don't recognize. And the wonderful little iPod I got for Christmas, but that's beside the point- I OWN NOTHING.**

For the first time in a month, I'm happy.

Hedwig came in through my window a few days ago carrying a letter from Ron. What it said was just what I needed to get myself out of the trance I've been walking around in since June.

_Dear Harry,_

_Hey mate, what's been happening with you? I hope your family is treating you okay. Sorry I haven't really been writing back to you- this house is so insane these days. Percy's still not talking to mum or dad, big surprise. Fred and George are in and out all the time with their laundry. George has a girlfriend now and they've realized that girls can't stand messy flats- you'd think being wizards they'd be able to do their own housework. _

_Bill and Fleur are still planning their wedding; I don't know exactly what's going on with it though because every time I stay downstairs for more than five minutes mum or Fleur put me to work addressing invitations or calling florists to find out how much they cost. Those two working together is a scary thing, so I've been hiding in my room or hanging around outside all summer. I've been practicing Quidditch with Ginny as well; I've gotten a bit better at saving goals in case Hogwarts stays open and you decide to go back next year._

_Well mum said you and Hermione are welcome to come whenever you want to, just write us when you want to leave the Dursley's house. My parents can make the arrangements with Professor McGonagall. Speaking of Hermione, has she written to you at all this summer? I've written her about six times but she hasn't answered me once. Is she mad at me or something, or do you think something's happened to her?_

_I have to go; mum's calling me down for dinner. See you soon._

_- Ron_

I wrote him back again and told him that I wanted to leave as soon as possible. Eventually Professor McGonagall decided that Professor Lupin and Mr. Weasley could pick me up at 4:30 on Friday.

Friday is finally here. Its 4:15, and I can't stand the waiting.

I flip through the photo album Hagrid gave me at the end of my first year. Some of the pictures are of my mom and dad, some have Sirius or Professor Lupin, and some are recent pictures taken of Hermione, Ron and I.

I think back to Ron's question. Hermione hasn't written to me at all since school ended. It's really starting to bug me. I know that I haven't done anything wrong to make her mad at me- that's always Ron. At first I thought she was avoiding writing to me because of a specific reason, but knowing that she's ignoring Ron as well is a bit more of a comfort. Maybe she's just overwhelmed.

I look back at Ron's letter, laughing a little when I see the bottom. Ron has never sent six letters to anyone in one month, even me. How long is he going to be oblivious to how he feels about Hermione? I may not be the smartest person around, but I'm not so stupid that I don't get what's been going on between the two of them. The jealousy, the screaming matches, and the occasional cold shoulder treatment- it all suggests that they definitely both like each other as way more than friends.

Hermione is smarter than Ron is though. Why hasn't she realized it herself?

Maybe she has. Maybe she's ignoring him because she knows what she's feeling and she's just scared... but then why would she ignore me too?

Great. I have a headache now.

Adolescence is pure evil. "Best years of your life" my ass.

There's a knock on the door downstairs. Uncle Vernon screams, "Potter, it's those freaks again! Get out of here quickly!"

Before leaving, I take one last look at my room. This is it; I'll never see this place again. Now that I'm seventeen my protection is expired, and I have officially worn out my welcome with my last remaining relatives. Good riddance, I'm glad to be done with them. They've never shown me any affection- god forbid they get close to an abnormal person.

"Wingardium leviosa!" My trunk raises itself a foot off the floor and I walk out of my bedroom and down the steps. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley are all standing in the doorway to the living room, looking ecstatic.

Mr. Weasley, who is leaning in the doorway, grins. "Hello Harry, have a good summer so far?" "Yes Mr. Weasley", I say. He looks at the Dursley's hesitantly, and they all take a very small step backwards. The last time Arthur Weasley was here he, Ron, Fred, and George had single handedly demolished the sitting room. I try not to laugh at the memory, as it is clear that everyone in the room is thinking of the same thing.

Mr. Weasley spots Dudley cowering next to his father. "Hello there Dudley! Your tongue shrunk very nicely," he says, chuckling to himself. Fred and George Weasley have an amazing track record for pranks-maybe even better than my dad and his friends when they were in school- and one of their successes was dropping a toffee on the floor that makes your tongue swell up-actually, swelling up is an understatement. Anyways, Dudley ate it being the fat pig he is, and his tongue blew up like a balloon. I laugh out loud this time, unable to hold it in.

Dudley doesn't find it quite so funny; he whimpers and tries to hide behind his parents. He fails: Dudley has gotten fatter than he was before, although I thought it was impossible last year.

Uncle Vernon is turning purple, and Aunt Petunia looks furious. I clear my throat. "Uh, Mr. Weasley, we should get going."

Mr. Weasley laughs. "Right you are, Harry. Right you are. Anyways, Remus is waiting outside. We're going to walk to Mrs. Figg's house and apparate from there. Say your goodbyes."

I walk over to the Dursleys. None of them looks me in the face. "Well," I say, "I don't suppose I'll ever be seeing you again." My comment is greeted with silence. "Not that any of you care. You never cared about me. You never showed me any affection, and it's a wonder I turned out alright with the lack of kindness I grew up with. I mean, I lived in a cupboard for ten years! That can't be healthy!"

I pause again. Uncle Vernon and Dudley are still avoiding my gaze, but Aunt Petunia is staring right at me. No emotion shines in her eyes, but for a split second I think I see a flash of sadness.

"However, you took me in and kept me safe for sixteen years, so thank you. I'm out of your hair for good. I'll send a letter by post if I forgot anything, just to warn you that I'll be coming back for it."

With that, I turn around. Mr. Weasley looks a bit uncomfortable and a little shocked. "Well, we should get going," he says, fidgeting slightly.

"Yeah," I say calmly, looking at my only remaining relatives one last time. "We probably should."

I follow Mr. Weasley out of the house, closing the door behind me after picking up my trunk and carrying it outside. The sunlight is blinding, and at first I can only see the outline of Remus Lupin, my favourite Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Hello, Harry!" He shakes my hand warmly and smiles. "Ready to go?"

"Ready and willing," I exclaim, looking up and down the street. "Excuse me sir, but do you mind if we stop somewhere really quickly? There's someone I have to speak with."

**Thanks to Myrtle the Tyrtle for reviewing my first chapter so far- and I saw the button as greyish purple for some reason... maybe because it was 2 in the morning... well anyway, review more guys, I love hearing from you! In the next chapter we hear from Ron- won't that be fun!**


	3. Ron: What Kind of Pit Stop?

**Happy Meghanmas(what I call my birthday)!Here's my present to you all, because I turned sixteen today!**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Pigwidgeon came back today from Hermione's house. He's empty-handed, again. Damn it.

I've written her six letters in the past month, and I haven't gotten one measly piece of parchment from her yet. It's so surreal- Hermione is usually a novelist when it comes to writing letters. Last year she sent me a letter that was ten pages long! She wrote about her muggle friends, that stupid cat, her parent's dental clinic, the OWL exams, and anything else you could possibly imagine Hermione writing about. I complained about having to read them back then, but now I miss the "novels".

"Ron! Mum wants you!" Ginny bellows up the stairs. I groan. "Be right down Gin!" I scream back.

Getting up from my desk, I run out the door, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. I'm met by an obviously crazy woman who looks just like my mother. She opens her mouth and what seems like hundreds of angry words flows from her mouth so fast I can barely understand her.

"Ronald, where've you been? Harry will be here any minute, and I fell asleep for a couple hours so the house is still a mess!"

I open my mouth to reply, but she very rudely interrupts me. "Don't talk, just listen. Set the table, clean up the living room a bit, and sweep anything that you can sweep!"

Then she bustles off, stopping briefly to yell at Ginny. "Keep dusting Ginevra, those picture frames better be spotless when I come back!"

Ginny gives me a look that clearly says 'Our mother is a nutcase' and continues to work. With a deep breath, I walk over to the cupboard and start taking out plates, glasses, and salad bowls.

"So, did she write you back yet?"

I turn to see Ginny leaning against the door to the living room, with a rag in one hand and a feather duster in the other.

"Who?" I say casually, although I know exactly who she's talking about.

She laughs. "You know exactly who I'm talking about. I see you staring out the window waiting for Pig to come back every day, and every time he comes back empty handed you sulk until bed time."

I scowl and turn away, pretending to be busy counting out the forks. How did she manage to figure me out?

Ginny moves over to the table and sits down in mum's chair. "Come on Ron, I've lived with you all my life. I know when something's wrong, especially between you and Hermione." She leans back in the chair, pressing her fingertips together like a muggle psychologist. She smiles knowingly. "So big brother, what did you do wrong this time?"

I set all the dishes on the table and start to distribute them. Her question is a tough one- for a whole month I've been wondering the same thing. I've gone over every little thing I said to her the last day at Hogwarts and on the train, and I've read everything I wrote to her in my letters over in my mind. I can't think of a single thing I've done to upset her. I usually know when I'm being a prat.

"Ginny, I honestly haven't done anything this time," I say, frustration clear in my voice. "We were fine the day of Dumbledore's funeral- she was crying on my shoulder, I was holding her and stroking her hair. I felt like we had a connection. We were okay on the train too, so there's nothing I could have said to piss her off. What the bloody hell is wrong with girls? Do you just get mad for no reason?"

My sister bursts out laughing. "No, we don't. There's always a reason. Sometimes it's the stupidest reason in the world, and sometimes it has nothing to do with you, but we always have one."

I run my fingers through my hair. "Then what's up with her? I honestly haven't given her any reason to get upset, I've even written to her more than I usually do!"

Ginny stared at me sympathetically. "Maybe it's not you, Ron. Maybe it's something going on with her."

"What, like something's happened to her?" I yell, getting louder with every word. "Maybe there was a Death Eater attack. If any of them have hurt her I swear to god I'll kill every single one of them."

"Ron, get a grip on yourself. There wasn't a Death Eater attack. If she was attacked Voldemort's followers would've left the Dark Mark, right? So the Ministry would know about it, which means Dad would know, which means we'd know," Ginny explained. "Make sense?"

I pause for a second. "Yeah, I guess so- but what did you mean about something going on with her?"

Ginny sighed. "Hermione's been kind of conflicted lately. I don't know what about, so don't ask- I just sense this war going on inside her, you know? I have a theory that she might be in the process of accepting some of the stuff that's happened, or even that she's realizing that she has really deep feelings for someone and she's trying to cope with having to tell him. Maybe it's both. I don't know exactly what, but Hermione's one of my best friends, and I have a feeling that she's been doing some serious thinking this summer."

"Ginny- who do you think she has feelings for?" I say quickly, rage bubbling up. I swear I'll kill him, whoever he is. I'm way overprotective of Hermione.

She looks at me like I've just asked her how to spell OWL. "Ron, if you honestly don't know, you are really stupid and I am ashamed to call you my brother."

A silence comes down over the room. I try to make sense of what I've just been told. Ginny is making it pretty obvious; is there a chance that the one Hermione is thinking about is me?

"Do you mean me, Gin?" I ask, sounding rather dumbfounded, as if I'd just heard that Gilderoy Lockhart had become Minister for Magic. Ginny bursts out laughing again, although I don't see what she finds so funny.

"Wow, took you long enough, didn't it? It's been almost seven years, the betting pool was abandoned long ago," She tries to say crossly. She doesn't manage it though; her eyes are twinkling and she seems thoroughly please with herself. "Look, she's liked you more than a friend since your second year, and probably in first year too. You've just both been such total idiots. You two have both been way jealous, valued pride over friendship, and basically didn't see what was right underneath your nose. The rest of us are all sick and tired of the constant bickering the two of you love so much, so why don't you just skip the whole 'I-like-her-does-she-like-me-back' stage and ask her out somewhere? Take her to a muggle movie or on a picnic. I don't care, just do it before the end of the summer or I swear I'll blurt this entire conversation out at the dinner table the last night before you three leave. Alright? Do you understand?"

I nod, although I'm not sure why. I like Hermione, and I admit there's something there that I've been avoiding in our conversations, but the thought of asking her out is totally terrifying. I'd rather face Malfoy, Snape, Fenrir Greyback, and Wormtail all at once than ask Hermione out to dinner. That's the funny thing about dating; no matter how many times someone tells you a girl is interested, and no matter how true it seems, there's always that fear of rejection.

I'd rather never hear the words "I'm sorry Ronald, but I only like you as a friend" in my life.

Ginny smiles at me, eyes twinkling once more. "Alright then, we're finished here. Now you might want to finish setting the table, mum will be furious if she comes down and sees we've done next to nothing." She walks back into the living room, rag and feather duster in hand.

I jerk back into work mode, setting all the plates where they're supposed to go. All of a sudden I think of something. "Gin, where's Fleur? You'd think she'd be helping mom clean up."

"She went to get her wedding robes fitted for the millionth time," Ginny yells as she stands on the tips of her toes to dust the top of the grandfather clock. "This is her second last fitting. Thank goodness mine was done a couple of weeks ago; I don't think I could stand another four hour trip to that bridal boutique in Diagon Alley."

I laugh to myself and walk into the living room. Folding the afghan on the sofa, something comes to mind. "So, have you kept in touch with Harry at all?"

Ginny freezes, and for a split second I think I made a mistake. However, just as soon as it came the discomfort was gone. "We sent a couple of letters back and forth. We're trying to stay friends." She pauses for a second. "He'll never be able to just settle down and let someone else conquer all the evil, will he?"

I try to think of a nice way to say no, but I can't think of anything. "Honestly? No. He's the one who has to finish You-Know-Who off in the end."

Ginny looks confused, and I know I've gotten myself in too deep. "But why does he have to? The whole Ministry of Magic is looking for You-Know-Who, Harry doesn't need to put himself in any more danger than he already has."

Wow, this is going to be hard to explain without giving her any more information. "Gin, there's a whole lot more to this whole thing that you don't know about. I want to tell you, but it's not my decision. There are probably only three people alive who know the whole story, and that's Harry, Hermione, and I."

Ginny stares at me like she can't believe what I'm telling her. "So you're just going to tell me there's more to it and not give me any more information. Nice, Ron. That's real nice. It's not like I can't be trusted!"

Uh oh. I'm in trouble now. "If I could tell you I would Ginny, but I can't betray Harry's trust."

She glares at me defiantly for a second, and I'm sure I'm going to get it, but her shoulders suddenly drop. "I guess I can understand that," she says softly. "I just hate being the odd one out with you three."

I'm about to reply- not that I know what to say- when the kitchen door bangs open. "Honey, I'm home!" Dad yells. A grin stretches across my face as I walk into the kitchen. Dad, Professor Lupin, and Harry are standing in the doorway.

"Hey Harry," I say, unable to disguise the happiness in my voice. "It took you three long enough to get here."

Professor Lupin smiles at me mischievously. "We made a pit stop on the way."

I stare at them, confused. "What kind of pit stop?"

My question is soon answered. As Harry moves his trunk into the kitchen, I see another person, previously hidden by him.

My jaw instantly drops.

"What are you doing here?"

**Thanks to all the reviewers! As you can see I'm working on getting the chapters longer so that you guys have more to read. Anyways, review if you like it, or if you don't!**


	4. Hermione: We're Off to See the Wizard

**I OWN NOTHING IN THIS STORY BESIDES THE PLOT.**

**_June 28th, 1997_**

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope your summer is going well and that you're having fun with your parents. The Dursleys are ignoring me, which is an improvement over the yelling and piles of chores I used to get. I've been here for almost two days so far and I've only gotten a lot of stares and the occasional grunt from my Uncle Vernon..._

**_July 5th, 1997_**

_Dear Hermione,_

_I've had an interesting week- the Dursleys have been gone to dog shows almost every day because Dudley is trying to impress a girl who just happens to have a champion show dog. It's been heaven. I get to watch television for more than two minutes, I can eat all the leftovers, and best of all I can finally get out of my room…_

**_July 15th, 1997_**

_Dear Hermione,_

_I haven't gotten a letter from you yet, but it's probably on its way. How's your summer been? Have you gone anywhere interesting? I don't know if you've heard from Ron yet but he says Fred and George are testing some new products out. They're being really secretive about it, which means that it's going to be big. I don't know whether to dread or look forward to them releasing it…_

**_July 26th, 1997_**

_Dear Hermione,_

_I can't help but notice that you haven't sent one letter to me yet, and Ron says he hasn't gotten anything either. We didn't do anything to make you mad did we? What I mean is why aren't you writing to us? I could understand Ron acting like a prat, but what could **I** have possibly done?..._

After reading Harry's letters, I start to cry. I've let down my best friends without meaning to. Harry has a way of making me feel better, whether he's right beside me or while I'm reading a letter from him, but suddenly he isn't helping. Harry's comfort just isn't enough for me anymore.

I search my mind, trying to think of something, anything that would help ease the pain of all the loss and hardships we've all endured. Suddenly I remember the only solace I had the day of Dumbledore's funeral- the soft feel of the fabric covered shoulder I cried into, the smell of wood spice cologne, the soft touch of a hand stroking my hair, the hot tears falling onto my face and mingling with my own…

I don't need books. I don't need my parents. I don't need Crookshanks, Parvati, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, or even Harry. At this point, there is only one person who can come close to making me feel like I'm worth something.

As weird as it sounds, I need Ron.

I laugh bitterly, brushing tears off my face and trying to compose myself. Ronald Weasley… he's been the bane of my existence since first year. Ron definitely knows which buttons to press to tick me off; he's been an expert at it for about six years now.

Even so, through all of the things about him that irritate me beyond belief, I really do like Ron. He's a great guy- he's fun, he's loyal, there's never a dull moment when he's around, and (dare I say it?) he's become pretty attractive in the past couple of years. Our personalities may not mesh well, which is apparent from our constant fights, but somehow we always find our way back into our friendship. I like knowing that no matter what happens I always have him to fall back on.

And Harry, of course.

I suddenly hear a knock at the door. I walk over to my bedroom window and look down at the front porch trying to see who it is, but the ivy climbing up the side of my house conceals their identity.

I sigh. If it's another door-to-door salesman I'm going to ask mum and dad to think about getting a Doberman. There is no way I'm going to stand at the door for half an hour listening to a man I've never met and will never see again talk about why I absolutely must buy this new and improved vacuum cleaner. I hate it when people say something is "new and improved". If it's new, there was nothing to improve on before, so it contradicts itself.

The door bell rings a few times in rapid succession, and I'm jolted back into reality. Continuing my muttering about salesman and new and improved products, I walk down the stairs, ready to teach the person behind it about patience. The door bell is still ringing, and the person pressing it is about to get his head bitten off.

Throwing the door open, I start yelling at the people on my porch.

"Did your mother never teach you about patience? It took me two minutes to answer the door, it's not like it was an hour! I heard you the first time you knocked, you didn't have to-"

I stop, my mouth hanging open like a goldfish.

Harry, Professor Lupin, and Mr. Weasley are standing on my porch, looking bewildered. Harry has his finger pointed at the buzzer, ready to press it again.

"Is that how muggles answer the door then?" Mr. Weasley says, astonished. "I would have thought they'd be more polite than that."

I start talking again, babbling so fast they probably can't hear what I'm saying.

"Mr. Weasley, Professor Lupin, Harry, I'm so sorry, I thought it was a salesman and I didn't want to have to listen to someone talk about vacuum cleaners, please forgive me, I didn't think it would be you, come in, we'll have some tea, my parents aren't home but I'm sure they would've loved to meet you, well, meet Professor Lupin, not Mr. Weasley and Harry, not that they wouldn't be pleased to meet you two, it's just that they already have- wait a minute, what are you doing here?"

They all continue to stare at me like I'm insane. Finally Harry seems to find his voice.

"Ron and I hadn't heard from you, and we were worried that something had happened to you."

I look at him blankly. "Oh- well, come in then. I'll make some tea." The three men walk past me into the house, each watching me cautiously as though they think I'm going to go crazy on them again.

"Alright- well, the parlour is this way." I close the door and lead them all into my house. My mind is still reeling.

From behind me I hear Mr. Weasley ask Harry in a low voice, "Harry, what's a vacuum cleaner?"

After making some tea for everyone and explaining to Mr. Weasley what a vacuum cleaner was, we all sit in uncomfortable silence in the parlour.

"So, why don't you three explain to me why you're here?" I say cautiously. Mr. Weasley looks a bit confused. "Actually, I'm not quite sure why we're here either. Harry said he needed to talk to you urgently."

"Yes, I do," Harry says a bit too urgently. "In private. How about we go in the kitchen, Hermione? We can get some cookies."

"Oh… okay." I say, and I lead him into the kitchen. As soon as we get out of earshot of the two adults I turn on my heel and say threateningly, "Harry, tell me what's going on."

Harry stares at me for a second. "Hermione, Ron and I were worried sick about you. You're usually the one who writes a lot of letters, and we haven't heard from you all summer. What's wrong? Don't try to tell me nothing, I know when something's up with you."

I slowly try to think of a good response. How on earth am I going to explain my problems to Harry when I barely understand them myself?

"Harry, I don't know. I'm just overwhelmed."

"You're overwhelmed?" Harry says. "You're overwhelmed? During the summer? Why?"

I sigh to myself and explain. "I'm trying to deal with all of this. Not just Dumbledore dying, but everything since third year. It's the constant worry, Harry. My last thread of grace is breaking."

He looks hurt as he gets what I'm saying. "So you're saying you don't want to be friends with Ron and me anymore?"

…Okay, maybe he doesn't get it. "No, of course not," I reassure him. "I just needed some time to myself to work it out. I actually hadn't even read your letters until about ten minutes before you arrived."

"Oh," Harry says. "So you won't come up to the Burrow with us then."

I think about this for a second. Yes, it would be awkward for a bit, but I've really missed the two of them. It's been almost unbearable, but until now I just couldn't bring myself to read those letters.

I'm not ready for it, but I have a feeling that I never will be if I don't make myself.

"Actually Harry, there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now."

Harry's face lights up. "Okay. Let's go pack your stuff." He follows me out of the kitchen back into the parlour.

"Hermione's coming too," he says proudly to Professor Lupin and Mr. Weasley.

"If it's alright with you, Mr. Weasley," I say nervously, wondering if Ron has mentioned me ignoring him this summer.

Mr. Weasley just smiled. "You're always welcome, Hermione."

"Great," says Harry impatiently. "Let's go get your stuff."

He runs up the stairs but stops there. "Uh, Hermione? Which one is your room?"

"First one on the right," I say, coming up behind him.

Once all my things are packed into my trunk, I open my letter drawer again. "I haven't opened any of these yet."

Harry moves over to my bed and sits down. "Then open them. See what they say."

I start to break the envelope on one of Ginny's letters, but I can't make myself do it.

"I think four letters is enough for today. I'll have to work my way up to the others, especially Ron's."

Harry adopts a mischievous look. "Especially Ron's? Why?"

I stare at him. "It's Ron. He sent me six letters. Six."

"So?"

I laugh bitterly. "So, he's never written me six letters before, and it kind of scared me a little."

Harry bursts out laughing. "Ron scared you. That's funny. Ron. You're one of the bravest people I know, and you're scared of Ron."

"Shut up, Harry. I was just freaked out because I didn't know why he was writing me so much. It's not like anything's different between us."

His face falls a little. "Nothing's different at all?"

I think about it. "Well, there's the whole Lavender thing which was upsetting since she's such a prat- I didn't think Ron's standards were so low. That's about it."

"You're saying you haven't noticed anything?" Harry sputters disbelievingly.

"What are you talking about?" I say crossly, hoping he's had too many bludgers to the head to have put two and two together.

"Hermione, you weren't mad about Lavender because she's a prat. Don't try to pretend that was it. I know when something's going on."

I turn away quickly. Damn, how did he figure it out?

"Something going on? Like what?"

Harry says, "I guess I have to spell it out for you. RON LIKES YOU. YOU LIKE RON. Get over yourselves already!"

My face turns very, very red at the thought of that. Ron? Ron likes me?

"Ron likes girls like Lavender. I'm not even close to his standards! I mean look at me! I have bushy hair, I used to look like a beaver, and it's not like I have a good body!"

Harry looks at me like he can't believe what I'm saying. "Hermione, you've really grown up in the past few years. You're not ugly at all."

I pause, trying to think of more reasons Ron wouldn't like me. "We fight too much-"

"You've got to be kidding me. You fight mostly because you two are jealous. With Krum, that was jealousy. Lavender was jealousy too," Harry practically screamed at me. "There is no way you two don't like each other. Everyone knows except for you and Ron."

I slump back, defeated.

"Oh my god, is it that obvious?"

Harry looks up at my ceiling. "Finally, she gets it!!!"

He looks down at me sitting on my floor, staring into space.

"Look, we've got to get to the Burrow. Let's get this stuff downstairs."

I stand up, but then remember something.

"Oh, I have to leave a note for my parents to let them know I'm gone."

"What time are they coming home tonight?" Harry asks.

"Around 7:30."

Harry thinks. "No, there's no way for an owl to make it from the Burrow in time for that. Write a quick note- we have to get out of here before Mr. Weasley figures out how to work the television, or else we'll never be able to leave."

I grin. "Agreed."

**Hey guys, sorry this took so long! I've been so busy with school and exams coming up, and half my friends have birthdays in January so I've been really stretching my time as far as it will go. I'm not sure when the next chapter will go up because I have so many projects to do and exams to study for and all that jazz, so it might be a while- hopefully not as long as it was this time. I'll write as much as I can! R&R please. You know you love the button. **

**(FYI, if this seems a little rushed, that's because it was)**


	5. Harry: An Unexpected Reunion

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. I'm poor.**

After Hermione writes a quick note to her parents, Mr. Weasley makes a portkey out of an old shoe he found on the street outside the Dursley's house- since we have so much luggage, we all decided that it would be too awkward to try and apparate.

Hermione looks white as a ghost as we stand in the living room getting ready to leave. I nudge her slightly, and she looks up slightly startled. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

"Oh- yeah, I'm fine," she replies. I'm still not convinced.

"You know you don't have to come with us if you don't want to. I'll explain to Ron."

She glances back up at me, and sighs. "Harry, I'm not ready to jump back into this, but I have a feeling I never will be. I might as well come now; I can't hide in my room for the rest of my life."

"Okay," I say. "As long as you want to."

"Are you guys ready to go?" Professor Lupin says, coming back into the room.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replies. "I have everything I need."

"Okay. Now you two know how a portkey works, right?"

"Right," the two of us say in unison.

At this point Mr. Weasley walks in.

"Alright, the portkey will leave in ten seconds. Everyone gather round."

We all grab a part of the shoe.

Mr. Weasley glances at his watch. "Three, two, one…"

All of a sudden I feel the familiar sensation of being jerked upwards by an invisible hook at my abdomen. Hermione screams as we whirl through the air and abruptly land face first in the grass outside the Burrow.

"OW! Good god that hurt!"

"Are you okay Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry. I just dropped at least thirty feet from the air, and I'm perfectly fine!!!"

Whoa, touchy.

I get to my feet and brush the grass off my knees. Hermione stands up and starts collecting the luggage scattered across the ground.

I look around for Mr. Weasley and Professor Lupin, but I can't see them anywhere.

"Where'd they go?" Hermione asks me.

"I have no idea."

"Over here, you two."

I glance in the direction of the voice and see that the two men are already at the kitchen door.

Hermione and I gather the rest of our things and join them on the doorstep. Mr. Weasley unlatches the door and walks in.

"Honey, I'm home!" he yells, hanging up his jacket.

We move into the kitchen, Hermione hesitating on the step. All of a sudden Ron walks into the room.

"Hey Harry. It took you three long enough to get here," he says, with a grin on his face.

Mr. Lupin smiles at him ironically. "We made a pit stop on the way."

As I manoeuvre my trunk further into the house, Ron exclaims, "What kind of pit stop?"

At that moment he sees Hermione, standing right where I just was. His jaw drops unexpectedly, and the grin vanishes as quickly as it appeared. I have to resist the urge to laugh at the dumbfounded expression on his face.

"What are you doing here?" he says to Hermione disbelievingly.

Hermione is visibly nervous. "Well, Harry came to get me on the way and he convinced me to come."

Ron just stares at her. "So… did you not get any of my letters? Why didn't you write me back?"

She seems to become even more uncomfortable. "Well… um…" Hermione looks at the floor, obviously trying to figure out what to say to him.

Ron starts to look frustrated. "Well? I'm waiting!"

Uh oh- this isn't going to be good.

"Hey, Ron, how about we get everyone settled in before we give them the third degree?"

I glance towards the doorway to the living room and see Ginny standing there. She laughs and says, "Don't mind him, Hermione. He's been in a bad mood all day."

Ginny is looking absolutely stunning. She's wearing sweatpants, she has no makeup at all, and her hair is all screwed up, but she still managed to look gorgeous.

I suddenly want to run over and kiss her over and over again, but I can't. I broke up with her, and we're trying to be friends. Friends don't snog in front of everyone- come to think of it, friends don't snog at all.

Damn Voldemort.

I jerk back into reality. Hermione smiles weakly. "Hello, Ginny. Are you having a good summer so far?

"Oh, it's been pretty good," says Ginny. "Luna came up to visit about a week ago, which was really fun. She says hi, Harry."

I stare blankly at her, astonished that she is actually talking to me. I was sure she'd never want to talk to me again after I broke up with her.

She looks at me expectantly. "Um, Harry, did you hear me? Luna says hi."

"Oh- yeah, I heard you. Thanks," I say, my voice wavering a little. "How's she doing?"

Ginny starts to answer, but Mr. Weasley clears his throat.

"Well then kids, I think we should move this little reunion into the living room. Better yet, let's get everyone moved in. Hermione is staying in Ginny's room, Harry in Ron's as usual. Hurry, before Molly gets a chance to come and feed you."

As we all troop towards the stairs I notice that Ron is determinedly not looking at Hermione. He looks as though he is going to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut.

This is so weird- Ron usually doesn't need any prompting to fight with Hermione. Then again, Hermione never shies away from a screaming match either. Maybe our discussion in her bedroom has her thinking.

I groan to myself- this is going to be a very long summer.

As I said before, best years of our lives my ass.

**I am so sorry it took this long- I've had such a hectic month I've barely had time to write. I was going to make this chapter longer, but I figured you had waited long enough. Tell me what you think, R&R please! The more reviews I get the more I write.**


	6. Ron: Not Just Another Chat with Harry

As we sit down to dinner there's none of the usual loud talking coming from our group. Ginny and Hermione are sitting on one side of the dinner whispering to each other, and Harry and I are on the other side talking awkwardly about Quidditch. Everyone has noticed the elephant in the room, even mum. She's looking at me suspiciously, eyes travelling between me and Hermione.

Even if the four of us were being as loud as usual the kitchen would be eerily quiet. Bill and Fleur are still out doing wedding stuff, George is out with his new girlfriend, Darla Simmons, and Fred is on a blind date with one of Darla's friends. It's only me, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, mum, and dad.

To tell you the truth, it's sort of scaring me.

I glare at Hermione, trying to hold in my anger and all my questions until I've cooled off enough to handle it rationally. I know it's probably stupid to be mad, but I've been making myself look like a total idiot. I sent so many letters filled with nothing but feeling and sincerity, and I got absolutely nothing in return- just an uninvited houseguest.

Harry's looking really pale as well. I need to have words with him later. I know he had everything to do with Hermione showing up here unexpectedly.

Mum stands up, scraping her chair across the floor and making everyone jump a little. "Well, who wants dessert?" she says cheerfully, and with a flick of her wand all the dishes are flying into the sink.

"That sounds great Mrs. Weasley," Hermione says, smiling up at her. "Do you need any help getting it?"

Mum positively beams at the offer. "Oh no dear, that's quite all right. Thank you so much for offering though."

Great. She's going to butter up my family and get them on her side, and it'll look as if I'm being completely irrational.

This girl is good.

When we're done our ice cream, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and I all hurry upstairs as fast as our legs can possibly carry us. Ginny and Hermione fly into Ginny's room, and Harry and I continue up the stairs towards mine.

Once we're both inside and the door is safely shut, I let loose on Harry.

"What is she doing here Harry?" I ask out of the blue- there's no use beating around the bush.

Harry looks startled. "I thought you'd be happy about this," he says defensively. "Weren't you complaining that she hadn't written to you?"

My face suddenly turns almost exactly into the colour of my hair. "I wasn't really complaining, I was just casually mentioning-"

Harry starts to laugh. "Aw, you're blushing!"

"No I'm not!" I say hotly. "It's because I'm a redhead. It happens all the time."

"Since when does your face randomly start to look like a giant strawberry?"

"Shut up Harry."

He grins. "You know you're happy to see her. Come on, go down and tell her you're glad she's here. She was really nervous about your reaction and it'll make her feel better to know you're not mad. Trust me- she wasn't trying to snub you. She hadn't written to anyone, not even me or Ginny."

I sigh and flip myself onto my bed, covering my face with my hands. "It's my fault she hasn't been writing to anyone. I freaked her out with what I said in the letters."

Harry pauses for a moment, and then responds slowly. "Ron, she hasn't read them."

I sit up and stare at him. It takes me a moment for the words to sink in. "What?"

She didn't read them," he continues, staring at his feet. "All of the letters everyone sent her are unopened, except for mine- and she didn't read those until ten minutes before I got to her house."

Suddenly Harry realizes something. You can tell from the look on his face that a piece of information has clicked into place. "Ron," he says slowly, drawing as much drama out of his voice as he possibly can. "What did you write that would scare Hermione that badly?"

"Nothing," I protest quickly- I can feel my face going red again. "Just the usual-"

"Ron," Harry says louder. "Tell me the truth. What did you write in those letters?"

I stay silent, cursing myself for mentioning it at all.

Harry sits down beside me. "You know you can trust me, Ron. I'm not going to tell her."

I sigh again, frustrated to the very core. I might as well tell him now- he'll get it out of me sooner or later.

"…I was normal in the first one. I wanted to get writing out of the way for the summer, so I wrote the first day and sent it off. I figured that I'd get it over with and not have to write again."

I pause for a moment, trying to find the right words to say next.

"I thought it was over with, but a couple of days later, I got the urge to write her again. So I did, and the letter was longer. I wrote less about Quidditch and more about how I felt about everything that happened this year, and I wrote a lot of… personal stuff."

I stop again. Should I tell Harry how I feel about Hermione? I mean, I have no idea what he'll say. It's not that I think that he likes her too- he's still way hung up over Ginny as far as I can tell. I just think that he might get protective of her, especially if it's me she's dating. Hermione's the sister Harry never had.

On the other hand, if Ginny noticed that I like Hermione, Harry's probably known for much longer. In which case, he's had plenty of time to threaten to bash my head in if he felt it was necessary.

Okay, I'll take the chance.

"Harry," I blurt out unexpectedly, "I like Hermione."

I flip back onto my bed, hiding my face from view- I can only imagine how red my face is right now.

I wait for a gasp, a scream of horror, even a "Ewww, what the hell Ron?" or a "You stupid little bastard, if you ever hurt her I'll break your legs."

But nothing comes.

I peek out from under my arm, and see Harry staring at me in amusement.

"What?" I say crossly, sitting up. "Why aren't you surprised at all?"

Harry laughs very loudly, and I have to throw a pillow at his head to make him stop. I don't want anyone coming upstairs to find out what's going on and just happening to hear what we're talking about. Living with Fred and George for fifteen years makes you paranoid.

"Hey, watch it," Harry says. "You actually thought I'd be surprised?"

I look at him dumbly.

"Um… yes?"

Harry chuckles again. "You think I hadn't noticed? You two are my best friends. I'd have to be deaf to not notice the jealousy problem you two have. First Krum was the problem, and then Lavender had you and Hermione ignoring each other for at least two months."

Comprehension dawned on me. "Oh my god Harry, is Hermione the only person who doesn't know about all of this?"

He laughs even more at this one. "Oh, she knows Ron. She knows that she likes you. The problem is that neither of you can fully see what's dancing right in front of you."

I stand up, glaring at him. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

He stands up as well, looking at me like I'm stupid. "It means Hermione likes you and you like her. Yet neither of you get it. Ask her out. She'll go, I promise. Just do it soon. You two have put me in the middle of your fights for six years Ron, and you're not doing it again over a stupid letter."

With that he walks out of the room. I stare out of my window, and a few moments later I see him walk swiftly to the broom shed and grab his Firebolt. Without two seconds he's gone, and I'm left alone to think about what he said.

He's the second person to confirm that Hermione likes me- in fact, the two people who've told me she fancies me are the two people besides me who know her best. I guess if both Harry and Ginny say it's true, then it must be.

I suddenly realize that I have to do something. I race out the door and down the steps toward Ginny's room, where she and Hermione are probably catching up after a long month apart.

I have to ask her to go for a walk. I'll see if she wants to go down to the muggle town and get an ice cream. Anything in the world there is to do, I'll do. I just want to see for myself if it's true.

I knock on Ginny's door, lightly at first and then gradually louder as no one answers. I'm practically banging on the door with both my fists when the door is wrenched open.

A very scary looking Hermione is standing before me. Her clothes are wrinkled, and her wild bushy hair somehow seems bushier than it ever has before. Her eyes are very red as well, as if she'd just been crying.

Somehow, she looks gorgeous.

"What do you want?" she growls. I take a step back, careful not to make any sudden movements. This girl is dangerous when she's pissed.

"Um…"

I try to get the words out, but I just can't do it. I'm absolutely petrified. I've never asked out a girl I fancied before, and apparently that isn't going to change today.

"Well, get on with it," says Hermione. "I'm not going to stand here all day if you're not going to say anything."

"Umm… I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier. I'm glad you're here, Hermione."

Her face changes dramatically once I say this. Her eyes brighten a little bit, and I can almost see a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth.

"Thanks, Ron. I'm glad too." With that, she closes the door in my face.

I remain standing there for a long time, staring into space. I can't believe that I actually had the chance to ask her out and I didn't.

I am such a prat.

**Thanks to my reviewers, you don't know how much it means to me to hear that you like it:)! If you liked this chapter, let me know. The more reviews I get the more I'm going to write, and if you want me to update again before I leave for Europe in two weeks, PLEASE R&R!**


	7. Hermione: Of Thongs and Poetry

After I close the door I fall backwards against it for what feels like forever, breathing erratically. I can't even move over to my bed- all I can feel is relief coursing through my veins. Ron doesn't hate me! He's not pissed off!

Suddenly my body is hurled forwards. Ginny plunges into the room and falls on her face, dropping her basket and causing clean laundry to skitter across the floor.

"What the hell were you holding the door closed for?" she growls from her place on the floor.

"I wasn't holding it closed, I was leaning against it. Your brother just left."

Ginny gets this stupid look on her face. Oh god, here it comes. I definitely shouldn't have said that. "Oh, I see. So, why was he down here? I thought he was being a prat."

"He apologized," I reply, kicking off my flip-flops and sitting down on my bed. "We're cool now."

"Oh, I bet you're cool," Ginny says, still smirking as she sets about picking her underwear off the floor.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I say.

Ginny glances at me, an amused look on her face. "Nothing, Hermione."

I glare at her. "Good. You missed a thong, it's under the bed."

Ginny's face turns red. "Could you say 'thong' a little bit louder Hermione? I don't think the house elves at Hogwarts quite heard that."

I laugh as she bends down to snatch the offending piece of string. "Don't worry, Harry just left. He stormed out and flew off on his Firebolt."

She rolls her eyes. "Harry isn't the only reason. I've done my own laundry for a few years now so my family doesn't know I wear them yet. I don't fancy mum, dad, or any of my brothers seeing my skimpy knickers thank you very much. Life here is awkward enough as it is now that you're here."

"Wow. Thanks a lot."

"You know what I mean Hermione. It's just that you and Ron are constantly fighting about one thing or another, and it sort of puts the rest of us on edge, if you know what I mean."

That night I barely sleep. All I can do is listen to the ghoul moaning in the attic above and think what happened earlier. Is Ron really glad that I'm here, or was he just saying that to stop the fighting and make it easier on everyone else? I seriously hope that he's done being angry- I honestly can't stand it when we fight. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep at night thinking about it.

Wow. I'm definitely not going to sleep any time tonight. I might as well do something.

Turning on the light, I creep quietly to my trunk and start looking for my journal. Once I find it I jump back onto my bed, open it to a random page, and start to read the first thing I see.

_**December 30, 1996**_

_I said you could have him_

_But I didn't mean it_

_I thought we had something_

_I guess I just dreamed it_

_With every glance_

_Every glimpse of care_

_With every stolen kiss_

_I see the two of you share_

_I can't help but break_

_And wish it were me_

_But I care too much_

_To let either of you see_

_I wish I could tell you_

_My best friend of all_

_About the guy I like_

_And what made me fall_

_But I can't_

_Because he's you_

_So I'll keep my mouth shut_

_And try to let it get through_

_That you never wanted me_

_You were always after her_

_So I have to let go_

_Or wait forever._

I smile slightly. I remember this. I wrote it while Ron was dating Lavender. I was seriously heartbroken. I never did anything about my feelings, but I always figured that he maybe felt the same and that we might get together if I was patient.

Well, that wasn't one of my best predictions. Professor Trelawney was right- I definitely don't have the gift of sight.

_I said you could have him_

_But I didn't mean it…_

One night last year I was in our dormitory getting ready to go to bed. I had my journal out and everything. All of a sudden Lavender came in- but instead of ignoring me and starting to talk with Parvati about her hair, she skipped over to my bed and plopped down beside me, smiling at me eerily.

"Hi, Hermione! What's up?"

"Nothing, Lavender," I said cautiously. She wanted something- there was no other reason for her to talk to me.

"That's cool, I guess." She just sat there looking at me with this wide grin on her face.

Great. She was going to beat around the bush and hesitate. I decided I might as well just ask her about it.

"So, Lav, is there something on your mind?"

Her eyes brightened. It was like she was an eagle who'd just spotted a field mouse. Without a moment's hesitation, she swooped in for the kill.

"Well, actually Mione, I wanted to ask you a question. Ron's single, right?"

My brain froze. I'm not even kidding- everything on my train of thought came to a screeching halt.

"Why do you want to know that?" I asked. Lavender had never given Ron a second glance in the six and a half years we'd been at Hogwarts. Why did she want to know now?

"Oh you know," she said casually, picking at her nail beds, "I just wanted to know; got to keep on top of the castle gossip, haven't I?"

I paused for a second. "…Well, I guess-"

"Right! So, is he?"

My brain finally jumpstarted again and I was able to jolt back into gear. "Yeah, I guess you could say he's flying solo right now."

"Great!" replied the beauty queen, jumping off my bed and dusting herself off. I swear she must think I leave ugly germs on everything. "Thanks H!"

With that she scurried off, probably to share Ron's confirmed social status with Parvati in the bathroom.

All I could do was stare after her. For a moment I wondered if she asked me because she had feelings for him, but I quickly shoved that thought out of my head. It was absolutely ridiculous- Lavender dated older guys. I don't think she's ever been attracted to anyone in our year, let alone date one of them. Besides, it was Ron- Harry was the one girls fancied.

Imagine my surprise when I walked down to the common room little more than a week later and saw Lavender straddling Ron in an armchair, practically sucking his face off.

When I wake up from my three hour rest the next morning I automatically bury myself deeper into my covers. My eyes are red and puffy from my lack of sleep and my muscles are still aching from the portkey ride yesterday. I lounge around for a while until Mrs. Weasley calls me down for breakfast.

When I get downstairs everyone else is already sitting at the kitchen table, eating the eggs, bacon, and pancakes Mrs. Weasley made for us. Not wanting to miss out on any of the food, I grab a plate and sit down in between Harry and Ginny.

"Hello, Hermione! How's our favourite almost-sister doing this morning?"

I look up to see Fred and George sitting right in front of me.

"Oh, hi guys! I didn't notice you!" I say enthusiastically. I may not always approve of the things Fred and George do, but even I have to admit that there's never a dull moment when they're around.

Fred (or is it George?) puts a hand to his chest dramatically. "Ouch. Way to cut to the core, Hermy?"

I stare at him disbelievingly. He didn't just call me Hermy.

"Hermy? Why must you taunt me?"

"It's what I do," says the one I think is Fred.

I grab my orange juice and start to drink at the same time as Ron.

"So, I hear you and ickle Ronniekins are back together."

All of a sudden this huge tidal wave of orange juice sprays out of my mouth onto the table, hitting the twins right in the face.

"Oh my god Ron, you idiot!"

As I look down the table I see that Ron did the exact same thing to Ginny.

"Sorry, Gin!" he says quickly, grabbing a napkin and starting to wipe her off.

"Don't touch me! God Ron, I just did my laundry yesterday! Next time keep it in your mouth!"

With a very rude hand gesture towards her brother, Ginny storms up to her room to change- again.

I turn back to the mess in front of me to see that Fred and George had already cleaned themselves off.

"Cleaning charm, I assume?" I asked, a little put off. Back together? We were never together in the first place!

"That's right, little sister." George smiles and clears his plate with a wave of his wand.

"I'm not your sister," I protest loudly, "and Ron and I aren't back together because we were never together in the first place."

"Sure, Hermy." Fred jumps up and starts to walk away. "Whatever you say. We'll see you all later, we're going down to the village for a bit to show that cute salesgirl some more 'magic' card tricks."

And with that the two of them are gone. They run out the door so fast that I almost think they've apparated.

Silence comes over the room. None of the remaining three of us is happy to be here.

"So…." says Harry. "The Ebola virus- that's got to suck, right?"

Ron lets out a nervous laugh.

Silence soon suffocates any further conversation.

Oh my god. I've got to get out of here, this is too awkward.

"Well boys, I think I'm going to go take a shower and hang out with Ginny- see you both later."

I jump up and hurry up the stairs before either of them can object, leaving them to their uncomfortable silence.


End file.
